A preternatural killer stalks the streets of San Francisco, leaving a trail of drained corpses to be found by the human authorities.

Desperate to protect the vampire’s secret the city’s Enforcer calls on the Assassin to put a stop to the spree. An ancient order, long thought dead rises from the ashes of history bent on death and the destruction of all vampires. And Morgan Blackstone stands in the eye of a gathering storm that will change everything.

PROLOGUE – Hollywood, California – July 9, 2012 The skeletal vampire smiled, his lips cracking as the skin stretched farther than it could handle, with red–black sluggish blood welling up in the fissures. His ice blue eyes rimmed crimson, adding to his terrifying appearance. The world around her fell away, and he was all that she could see. Morgan Blackstone’s sword cane was in her hand but the blade caught on the sheath and wouldn’t come free. Pain and pressure ripped through her throat. Her sword slid from her fingers, and she reached up to pull the syringe from her neck. She glanced at it, an antique, the plunger was depressed and a drop of crimson clung to the tip of the needle. Liquid numbness slithered through her veins. Her thought processes slowed. Darkness hovered around the edges of her vision narrowing her focus. All she could see was The Dracul’s employee entrance. If she could get inside, she could bar the door and, with a little luck, be safe until either the drugs wore off or dawn came. “Why do you fight?” Azreal stepped in front of her, his visage morphed, twisting and stretching until it became something out of a horror movie. The long beak-like hooked nose filled Morgan’s line of sight. Red eyes stared at her, boring through the drug induced fog. Alexander’s vice-like hands gripped her arms with his fingers, digging into her flesh. The darkness that had been playing around the edges of Morgan’s vision rushed forward. As it pulled her under, she heard Azreal say, “Bring her.” Morgan woke screaming, the sound echoing in her head, bouncing around like some sort of vicious pinball. She thrashed, throwing off the heavy blankets, sitting up, dragging air into her lungs. Her vampiric eyes took in her darkened surroundings and a voice slipped into her mind, telling her that everything was all right. She had nothing to fear. Taking a deep breath, she checked her clock, confirming what she already knew. The date was July 9, 2012, three years to the day since her world had been turned upside down for the second time in a little over 1700 years walking the earth. Three years? It feels like yesterday, she thought, putting her feet on the cool floor. Every year the nightmare came. The first year she'd been caught unaware. When the second year arrived, she tried not sleeping. Eventually, exhaustion hooked its claws in and dragged her down. This morning, the third year, she’d taken far too many of the powerful narcotics, and they hadn't been enough. Demons had slithered through her mind, poisoning her rest. Pacing the width of the master bedroom didn’t help. Nothing was out of place. She frowned at the closed black out blinds, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, to allow it to burn away the last remnants of the dream. Instead, she stood shivering against a cold that sank deep into her core. Morgan inhaled, long and slow. “Alexander is dead,” she said out loud to herself. “Azreal and Lucian are in Ireland. The doctor is dead” As she paced, Morgan focused her energy into a small ball of fire that she summoned to the palm of her hand. “Nicholai will tell you if and when that changes.”

She shuddered and rubbed her arms remembering the feel of the needles embedded in her flesh. “No one is going to inject you with experimental drugs and sorcerer blood.” She paused, an involuntary shudder ran through her. “You’ve got control of the magic.” Staring at the sphere in her hand, Morgan rolled it from the palm over her fingers, to the back of her hand, then back to her palm again. “You’re not trapped in that cell. You never will be again.” She drew the power back into herself and the fire in her palm collapsed on itself leaving the room in total darkness. Satisfied that she was in control, Morgan returned to bed and slipped away to the dreamless void every vampire enjoyed during daylight hours.

A California girl born and raised, Michelle Rabe tried the Hollywood thing but decided she preferred an author’s den to the actor’s trailer. She recently relocated to the Phoenix area with her unhelpful author cat. She is about to release the second book in her Morgan Blackstone Vampires series.